In Safe Arms

by Christine, Lee

  But the violence culminating in Mulvaney’s shock death tonight was becoming the norm. And the soul destroying loneliness of being undercover was hardening him.

  He felt tarnished by association.

  Desensitised.

  Despite that, it was magic to be home, even with the operation going catastrophically wrong. He could breathe up here in the mountains, be himself. And it was nice to talk to someone other than his controller. Someone from his real life.

  Even the annoying princess, who once upon a time, had imagined she’d fancied him.

  Nate threw the pieces of plastic into the waste basket. ‘Your wrists are swollen. Hold them under the cold water.’

  He straightened, knee cracking where he’d come off his bike on a road trip to the Hawkesbury River eight months ago. The Altar Boys had an interest in a pub up there and they’d gone to collect their share of the cash.

  Memories of that day flashed through Nate’s mind as he turned on the tap. The instant loss of control as the tyre blew, the frantic scramble to get out of the path of the other bikes.

  Josie’s gasp brought him back to the present. She was leaning over the vanity, face white, hands beneath the flow of water.

  ‘Stinging?’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s not that.’

  Before he knew it, he’d raised his hands and pressed his fingers into her shoulders. ‘You’ll be feeling it here.’

  He froze.

  What the hell was he doing?

  He waited for her to shake him off, or at least order him to take his goddamn hands off her. But she didn’t. She just turned off the tap and gripped the edge of the vanity unit.

  Nate hesitated. It was a dumb thing to do, but he’d acted on instinct, and in a way, he should be cheering. He wasn’t desensitised to the point where he’d lost all empathy for a human being in pain.

  And she’d think him a right prick if he stopped now.

  Using circular movements on the superficial layer of muscle, he began kneading out the tight knots of soft tissue. Her skin was smooth beneath the silky fabric of her dress, the line of her collarbone delicate beneath his fingertips.

  Something tightened in his stomach, and lower, and he knew if he were smart, he’d remove his hands right away. But he couldn’t break the human contact, and he wanted to do something nice to make up for the rough way he’d treated her tonight. He needed her co-operation, needed to build the trust between them if he had any hope of keeping them both alive.

  And he was having little success doing it with words.

  He watched her in the mirror, increasing the pressure in his fingers when her muscles began to free up. She inhaled deeply, and when her shoulders lowered, Nate relaxed a little too. One thing about Josie, he could trust her to pull him into line quick smart if he overstepped the mark.

  ‘How close are you to arresting this person?’ she asked, opening her eyes and sounding a lot older than her twenty years.

  His eyes met hers in the mirror. ‘Close, but I won’t lie to you, this is a major setback.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘If I knew, he’d be behind bars. We call him “O” for “the overseer”. He’s the organised crime boss we think bankrolled the bikies years ago. The capital he provided let them expand from a cottage industry, growing a bit of weed, into a highly sophisticated network of money launderers. Kennett’s the conduit. That’s why I didn’t arrest him. He’ll lead me to him.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You sacrificed Mulvaney?’

  He stopped rubbing her shoulders, his gaze locked on hers. ‘The situation got out of control. The tat parlour was supposed to be empty. I tried talking Kennett out of it in the back room, but he made me choose. It was a test. I guessed then Mulvaney was in for a beating but I had no idea Kennett was going to kill him.’

  He hesitated, searching for the words that would explain the choice he’d made. ‘If I’d defended Mulvaney, I would have blown my cover and probably got myself killed. Shutting down the computer — protected you. It was an easy decision.’

  ‘What about the rest of your squad?’

  He let go of her shoulders. ‘There are no others, just me and my controller. Welcome to our party of three.’

  She turned, troubled eyes studying his face. ‘So — my life’s in hiatus?’

  Nate wanted to be gentle, he really did, but gentle didn’t work with what needed to be said. ‘You show your face to the Altar Boys, princess, and you won’t have a life. Kennett learns you’re alive, and you sign your own death warrant — along with mine.’

  While he wouldn’t resort to emotional blackmail, he wouldn’t hold back either, because unlike him she had another option. Daddy could come to her rescue, use his considerable money and influence to ship her off to some exotic place on the other side of the globe where the Altar Boys would never find her.

  But would she go? Leave the undercover cop twisting in the wind? She had no obligation to save his skin, if anything, she should hate him. He’d snatched her off the street and not given her a say in the matter. And he intended doing everything he could to keep her with him so she could testify when the time came. When he locked away Kennett and the overseer for good.

  Nate held up the scissors, rolled the metaphorical dice for the second time that night. ‘Ready to do your worst?’

  She moved around behind him and he sat down on the stool.

  Again, their eyes met in the mirror.

  She said nothing, just held out her hand, face pale.

  He laid the scissors across her palm.

  ‘Try not to embed those in my jugular, will you?’

  Chapter 4

  1:00 a.m. Monday

  Allegra Greenwood stood in the bedroom of the terrace house she shared with her husband Luke Neilson, and spoke to Henry Grace on the phone. ‘The police found Josie’s car in the national park, near the family home.’

  She watched Luke dump their overnight bags on the bed, her voice breaking as he came towards her. ‘There’s no sign of her.’

  Luke wrapped his arm around her waist and she leaned into him, drawing comfort from his body warmth and quiet strength. It felt surreal to be discussing Josie’s disappearance with one of Grace and Poole’s senior partners in the early hours of Monday morning, and Allegra would have preferred it to be Simon Poole.

  But he was on sabbatical in the United States, attending his father’s alma mater, Harvard.

  ‘Do they know who’s involved?’ Henry’s voice was low, so quiet Allegra could barely hear him.

  ‘Two men, but she couldn’t identify them.’

  ‘Do they have any idea why she was speaking to Mr Mulvaney?’

  Allegra swallowed her irritation. It wasn’t in Henry’s DNA to break with formality, even at a time like this. ‘She thought he was trying to contact me.’

  There was a pause, then, ‘What matters do you have with him at the moment?’

  ‘I don’t have anything, but he might have had some new instructions. His body hasn’t been formally identified but the police are sure it was him the firies dragged from the building. It fits — with what Josie witnessed.’

  Allegra faltered, nausea churning her stomach. The thought of something happening to Josie because she worked for her…

  ‘And someone intercepted her?’ Henry was speaking louder now, repeating what she’d told him earlier, as if he’d overcome the initial shock and was trying to get everything straight in his head.

  ‘Yes. The tattoo parlour was in Ryde, about half an hour’s drive from her family home.’

  Allegra dragged in an unsteady breath, her heart a dull ache in her chest. ‘I’ve only learned this much because of Luke’s connections to the police.’

  Luke hadn’t pulled any punches either. With the bikies’ known ties to organised crime, Josie’s chances of survival were slim at best.

  Allegra paused, waiting for some direction from Henry, but there was silence from the other end of the line.

  ‘Sho
uld I have Luke open an investigation?’ It wouldn’t have been necessary to press Simon this way, but Henry was the more reactionary of the senior partners, preferring to wait for things to happen rather than take the initiative.

  ‘It’s a terrible business, but I’m not sure there’s much we can do other than let the police do their job.’

  Damn Henry! He was always concerned about things reflecting badly on the firm.

  Allegra tightened her grip on the phone. ‘Should I ring Simon? He would want to know about this.’

  ‘Leave it to me, Allegra. I appreciate the call. We’ll confer again in the morning.’

  ‘Alright. Goodnight.’

  Allegra killed the call and threw her mobile phone on the bed. ‘Bloody Henry! I’m tempted to tell him to grow some balls.’

  ‘Whoa!’ Luke grasped her shoulders and turned her round to face him. There was grave concern for Josie in his silver gray eyes, protective concern for her as well.

  Allegra slipped her arms around his waist, breathing in his familiar masculine smell. Even after eighteen months of marriage she still couldn’t believe Luke was hers.

  ‘I know I’m catatrophising, but I can’t help it.’

  ‘You’re allowed, Counsellor.’ Strong arms held her in a fierce embrace. ‘Though I don’t think catatrophise is a word.’

  ‘Poor Josie. You know what she’s like, all hard shell on the outside and marshmallow inside.’

  ‘Reminds me of someone else I know.’

  Allegra lowered her head onto his shoulder. ‘Despite the wealth, I’d never swap places with her. Nothing can make up for a close family. She loves them so much, and yet she’s closer to some of her former nannies than to Marilyn and Silvano. And, I know…’

  Luke’s warm lips brushed her temple. ‘Hey, come on, try and settle down.’

  ‘She never speaks ill of them, Luke, but I know she hurts inside.’

  ‘Sshh.’ Luke stroked his thumb across her cheek. ‘Josie might be a poor little rich girl, but she’s got spunk in bucket loads. She’ll fight, don’t you worry.’

  Allegra closed her eyes and let his voice calm her. No matter how bad things got, she had Luke by her side. And he’d never let her down. Two years ago, he’d tracked a stalker intent on harming her. The case had brought them together.

  And now Josie was missing.

  If anyone could find her, Luke could.

  ‘Could you…?’

  ‘You know I will.’

  She gave an inelegant sniff. ‘Are we getting like those couples who pre-empt what the other is going to say?’

  ‘I hope so.’ He buried his nose in her hair. ‘Come on, counsellor, you need to go to bed. We have to be up in a few hours.’

  Allegra turned her head and kissed his warm neck. She didn’t need sleep, she needed him to love her, to overwhelm her, to drive away every thought process and send her body into orbit, as only he knew how.

  ‘Do something, Luke,’ she whispered. ‘Take my mind off it — please?’

  He groaned, slid his hands down her arms and took a firm grip on her hips.

  ‘How could I refuse,’ he trailed his mouth down the column of her throat, ‘when you asked me so politely?’

  Henry Grace stood in his book lined study and stared at the darkened garden through the floor to ceiling window. Beyond the trimmed hedge, the creepy crawly hummed its way through the sparkling depths of the swimming pool.

  He only moved when his old black Labrador, Missy, pressed her warm body against his leg. Chilled to the bone, he picked up his phone and called a number he’d long ago committed to memory.

  The person at the other end picked up after three rings. ‘Yes?’

  Henry closed his eyes. ‘We have a problem.’

  Chapter 5

  1:15 a.m. Monday

  Josie made a conscious effort to avoid Nate’s eyes in the mirror as she draped a white towel around his shoulders and got to work. His hair was silky, sun burnished with strands of gold and auburn, the kind of dark mane many girls longed for.

  Aware of the slight tremble in her fingers, she rough cut the damp mass to collar length, struggling to recall every scrap of knowledge she’d learned from years watching Sydney’s top hairstylists groom her mother.

  That done, she divided his hair into sections and worked her way down from the crown. She caught each lock between her middle and index fingers, stretching it out and snipping off the extra length.

  Little by little, the Nate Hunter she recognised emerged in the mirror, like a Polaroid shot from an instant camera.

  ‘Which side?’ she asked, brushing his hair back from his forehead. She’d never hear the end of it if he came away looking like a mangy dog.

  ‘Left.’

  Josie parted his hair, deciding to leave it a little longer than in the photograph. The more fashionable he looked, the less he’d resemble his alter ego — badass biker, Nate Jordan.

  Leaning forward, she placed her hands on either side of his head, holding it still while she carefully checked both sides were even.

  Suddenly his face split into a wide grin, broad shoulders shuddering beneath her forearms.

  ‘What?’ Josie straightened, steeling herself against the roguish gleam in his Jack Daniels eyes. She hadn’t been the only girl at Grace and Poole to fall for Nate Hunter’s brand of charm.

  But the only one naive enough to act on it.

  ‘I don’t need the latest Beckham.’

  Refusing to bite, because that’s what he wanted her to do, she swept the towel off his shoulders and dropped it in his lap. ‘Done. You can sweep up.’

  She turned and left the bathroom, half expecting him to come charging after her and hand tie her again. But there was no thunder of footsteps, no irritated male voice calling “princess” as she made her way back into the living room.

  Maybe he’d decided she wasn’t stupid enough to thoughtlessly endanger both their lives. Then again, he’d already confiscated her laptop, phone and purse. And there wasn’t a landline in sight.

  Josie checked her watch.

  1:45 a.m.

  Hell dark in the mountains.

  Where on earth would she go anyway?

  Taking advantage of her longer leash, she wandered over to the mantelpiece and studied the collection of trophies she’d noticed earlier. It seemed Nate had once been the consummate ironman. Again and again, he’d placed in the top three in numerous high level competitions, the most recent award five years ago.

  Had he stopped competing, or was that around the time he’d left for America?

  She looked at the comfortable room, heart rate climbing as she thought of the life she was being forced to give up. She enjoyed working for Allegra, loved her little apartment and the independence it gave her, almost as much as she enjoyed fostering a love of music in her toddlers and pre-schoolers.

  Josie shivered, skin turning to gooseflesh and making the hairs on her arms stand on end. What would she do up here all day, devoid of the internet, social media and her mobile phone? She’d be disconnected from Grace and Poole, separated from the children and parents she loved interacting with.

  Day after endless day, week after endless week…

  Panic welled inside her, a cold sweat breaking out on her body.

  How would she cope?

  ‘Bathroom’s all yours.’

  Josie wheeled at the sound of Nate’s voice, grasped the back of the lounge to steady herself. He came towards her, white tee-shirt encasing his broad shoulders and complimenting the tan of his face. Fashionably frayed blue jeans, worn a little looser than his earlier leathers, hung from his narrow hips.

  He looked nothing like the menacing bikie who’d run her off the road, and everything like the man who’d set her aside and told her in no uncertain terms she was too young, and too inebriated, to be coming onto him.

  Blushing at the memory of being driven home legless by a detective, she watched as he sat on the couch and opened the notebook.

&n
bsp; He glanced up when she didn’t move. ‘I want to see if anything’s been reported on the 24 hour news channel.’

  She hesitated.

  Choices, Jos. You always have choices.

  ‘Me too.’ She perched gingerly on the opposite couch.

  He shot her a wary look and switched on the flat screen. The notebook hadn’t even booted up when the network crossed to a news update.

  ‘A tattoo parlour has gone up in flames in the Sydney suburb of Ryde. Fire fighters were called to the scene shortly after 10:00 p.m. to find the building well alight. Believed to be owned by the Southern Cross Motorcycle gang, the property was destroyed, leaving fire fighters battling to prevent the blaze spreading to adjoining buildings. Police have confirmed one person perished in the fire. It is the latest incident in the ongoing turf war between Sydney’s rival bikie gangs.’

  ‘Nothing to worry about yet.’ Nate killed the reception as the news anchor moved onto the next story. ‘I’m not expecting your disappearance to be reported for at least twenty-four hours.’

  A bone wearying tiredness came over Josie, and it took every bit of energy she possessed to push herself off the lounge. What he said made sense. The police would need to contact her parents before releasing details to the press.

  In the bathroom, she stood under a showerhead the size of a dinner plate, aching all over, stomach discoloured from her fall across the handbrake, teeth tender from where Nate had dragged his hand from her mouth. When she turned, her shoulders and sternum hurt from the rough handling, her wrists burning from the zip ties.

  Shampooing her hair became an exhausting exercise in contortion, and afterwards, she braced herself between the shower walls and let the cascade of warm water rinse her hair and soothe her muscles.

  Nate believed her over privileged, and she’d never refute that, but like every other guy, he couldn’t see past the sparkly wrapping paper.

  She turned off the taps, resolve strengthening with every droplet of water she squeezed from her hair. She was alive and she could do this. Terrifying as it might be, she could cope with being holed up here until he made an arrest.